


The First Six Weeks

by I_am_lampy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, Because I get tired of searching for them, Blame my friend Meg, Daddy Sherlock, F/M, Graphic Depictions of Sleep Deprived Parents, Happy parents, I'm just making up my own tags, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rosie wants one too!, Sex for the first time after giving birth, She's a tag whore, hot and angry sex, smiling babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 16:50:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10598154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_lampy/pseuds/I_am_lampy
Summary: Sherlock and Ginny endure the first six weeks of parenthood. Ginny is ready to continue their sexual relationship but Sherlock is hesitant. Aurelia is a screaming newborn. Sherlock and Ginny only barely survive the first six weeks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me for this lengthy summary of The Assistant. It's a long work, about 75k words, so I thought I would offer a detailed synopsis of The Assistant because in this series, there will be references to that work. Of course, I will be thrilled if you read it anyway, but I completely understand not wanting to jump into that big of a commitment.
> 
> The Assistant:
> 
> Three years after the events at Sherrinford, Sherlock finds himself in need of an assistant to fill the gap left behind by John's busy life as a single parent and doctor. He hires an American woman named Georgia Logan who becomes his protege and then his lover. That is, until he discovers she isn't who she claims. Her real name is Virginia Lynch, Ginny for short, and she is a convicted murderer.
> 
> In a fit of rage, he cuts her out of his life and tells Mycroft to get rid of her. Mycroft sees in her the same potential Sherlock had and gives her official papers under the name Virginia Georgia Logan, a combination of her real name and her alias and puts her to work as an intelligence analyst where she thrives.
> 
> Sherlock falls into a depression after he bans her from his life and what should have been a simple cold turns into pneumonia. He lays on his couch and refuses food, refuses to let John help him, refuses everyone until he's too ill to refuse. It's almost too late. He lives but it takes two months to recover.
> 
> In that time, his perspective changes about his life. He begins to consider and eventually accept that The Work and The Game are no longer enough to fulfill him. As a result, he asks Mycroft for all the information he has on Georgia/Ginny.
> 
> To his horror, he discovers that Ginny and her sister Georgia were part of a child trafficking ring wherein the sisters and two other girls were routinely 'loaned' (for a fee) to men who repeatedly raped them. Ginny's sister, Georgia, became pregnant and was beaten to death by the father of her baby.
> 
> Almost twenty years later, one of the girls who had been part of the abuse, now a grown woman with children, recants her testimony, which grants Ginny's mother an early parole. Two years later Ginny is convicted of her mother's murder. Sherlock begins looking into both the more recent case of Ginny's conviction and the decades old case of her parents trial, conviction and imprisonment for child trafficking. His poking alerts the murderer of Ginny's sister, Georgia, and there are tragic consequences.
> 
> The man who murdered Ginny's sister, Georgia, tries to murder Ginny as well. In what is originally considered a hit and run, Ginny is almost fatally wounded, crushed beneath the tires of the driver's car. She's rushed to the hospital and immediately into surgery. John talks to the hospital head of surgery and explains to Sherlock what has happened as well as some shocking news - Ginny is pregnant and has been keeping the secret from Sherlock for three months.
> 
> Sherlock knows he wants Ginny and the baby and finally tells Ginny. As Ginny recovers in hospital, Sherlock finally puts all the pieces together to solve the puzzle of Georgia's murder over twenty years ago and why and how Ginny was framed for her mother's murder.
> 
> Ginny is released from hospital, but not before Mummy Homes discovers she's having a granddaughter. In the Epilogue to The Assistant, Sherlock Holmes and Ginny Logan have a baby girl and Sherlock names her Aurelia.
> 
> This series will follow their further adventures.  
> _______________________________________________________________________________________

**The First Six Weeks**

 

Sherlock had never slept so much nor so little in his life. He had never been one to sleep much, had always been able to succeed on only a few hours' sleep a night. Because of that, he had assumed a newborn's sleep schedule – or lack thereof – would have little effect on him.

Oh, how wrong he had been.

So, so wrong.

The obstetrician had explained to them when Ginny was still in hospital that the baby wouldn't suffer any long term effects from the anesthesia and pain killers Ginny had been on for the last half of her pregnancy but Sherlock and Ginny had been cautioned to check on Aurelia regularly and not let her sleep more than four hours at a time as she would be sleepier and more subdued than most newborn babies.

Oh, how wrong they had been.

So, so wrong.

Aurelia didn't just cry. She _screamed_. The baby books had said that a baby would begin with a whimper and her vocalizations would get gradually stronger and louder until the parent responded. Aurelia's vocalizations did _not_ get gradually stronger and louder. She went from quiet to full on screaming.

Sherlock's mother was there almost every day for hours and hours – six at a time sometimes – helping Ginny, shooing Sherlock out of the way, making him angry at the way she encouraged him to be helpless. Ginny – who had always been able to read Sherlock long before Sherlock could read her _and_ who had never been hesitant to speak the truth – told Mrs. Holmes _Sherlock and I need time alone with Aurelia. We're limiting visitors to an hour each and only three a day at that. But you're welcome to be here every morning at nine and have two whole hours with your granddaughter_. Then she had turned her smile on Sherlock's mother, the wattage turned all the way up and leaned forward and kissed Mrs. Holmes' cheek and just like that – Sherlock was once again allowed back into his own life except for those two hours a day. He used them to work in the basement.

He was much more capable as a parent than he had thought he would be. He loved to hold Aurelia up against his chest, her naked skin against his. In addition to it having been recommended in hospital and in all the books he had read – kangaroo something, he thought, could only barely recall now – but more than that it soothed them both. He stopped fidgeting when she was laying on him like that and felt drowsy in a pleasant way. He always fell asleep until she woke him up with her raucous cry.

Aurelia never woke or went to sleep or wanted to eat with any sort of regularity. The baby books said that they should follow her natural rhythms in order to create a schedule but she had no natural rhythms. One night she would cry every hour and sleep all day. (Never the other way around). She would fall asleep nursing and when Ginny tried to pry her off, she would start screaming.

One day Lestrade came up the steps to find the three of them asleep, Sherlock sitting up, Ginny slumped against him, Aurelia cradled in her arms.

 Sherlock and Ginny had woken right up, each knowing the sound of Lestrade's footsteps and when he had walked in the door, they had looked at him like he was their lifeline.

"Just thought I'd visit," he said.

Sherlock and Ginny slumped back down into a defeated pile. Then Aurelia had woken up and began to cry and she cried so loudly that Lestrade had immediately said, "Well, I'll leave you to it!" and escaped.

For six weeks, Sherlock and Ginny thought they would go crazy. And then one day, they did.

* * *

 

"There's no milk!" Sherlock shouted at Ginny from the kitchen.

She groaned in frustration. She was in the fucking bathtub. She just wanted _thirty minutes_ with nobody crying or shouting or cooing or talking. She wanted thirty minutes without a baby attached to her breast. She much preferred the idea of Sherlock's mouth attached to her breast, if clearly not for the same reason.

The obstetrician had told her four weeks was usually how long she told her patients to wait but it was really down to the individual woman. If Ginny was comfortable having sex again, then that's all that mattered. At Ginny's two week post-birth checkup, the obstetrician had injected a birth control shot into her ass and just like that, the gates to the playground of unlimited sex were wide open. Perhaps not unlimited sex, but certainly as much as they could fit in between caring for Aurelia and trying to snatch sleep and food as they could.

Ginny had been comfortable having sex three weeks after Aurelia had been born but Sherlock always used the baby as an excuse and she didn't know why. Well, she did, a little. He was funny about the whole _your body has my daughter in it_ so she supposed he was still having a hard time with the changes in her body. He had never been squeamish but maybe it was just too much for him to handle just then.

Sometimes she saw him watching her with a strange intensity when she nursed Aurelia, like he was trying to figure something out and that if he just studied her enough, he would be able to see it. Then he would realize she was watching him and he would get up and walk away. Anytime she was remotely unclothed, he would get that same intense look in his eyes. It wasn't desire because she knew what he looked like when he wanted her.

Ginny had decided that he just didn't want her yet. He was still adjusting and she wanted to be okay with that.

But _fuck_ she was gagging for it.

She ignored Sherlock's grumpy shout and dipped her head underneath the water. Her lower abdomen was striped with six wide angry red stretch marks, which irritated her not for their ugliness but for their _itchiness_. Everyone said _oh, it won't itch so much once your belly's not stretching anymore_. Fucking liars. It drove her crazy. No matter how much cocoa butter she rubbed onto her belly. Someone had suggested vitamin E oil but she didn't know where to find any. You couldn't just walk into a Walgreens here. They didn't have them. The shops weren't like stores in the States. They were small and tended to be individualized. There were big stores – Tescos and Asdas – somewhere but she didn't have a car and she hated riding in cabs if she could avoid it. She was still a little traumatized from Barlow's attempt to kill her by smashing her under the wheels of his rental car and cars of all kinds made her nervous. The minute she got near one she was certain it would drive forward or backward and she would be crushed under the wheels again, thinking _I'm going to die and he'll know I kept the baby a secret, the worst secret I could have kept_.

She looked at the lines along her legs. Sherlock said she looked like she had been stitched together by Frankenstein. They kind of did and they were still slightly red. One went all the way from her ankle to her knee on the left side. On the right side the line of the scar was shorter but there were also the patchwork scars of the skin grafts, worse on the right than the left. Those would fade until they were almost unnoticeable she had been told but the ones on her legs never would. There would always be long white scars bisecting both of her legs.

She kind of liked the way they looked, which made her feel kind of fucked up in the head. They were still slightly red. Every time she looked at them she felt a leap of joy that she was alive. She was alive and she had Aurelia and she had Sherlock and she was alive and they were alive and everyone was _okay_. It almost left her breathless sometimes, the joy of it.

Her legs hurt all the time but it was mostly a low background ache and the surgeons said that would fade. She could handle pain. Well, except for Aurelia's birth when they hadn't had time to give her an epidural because Aurelia had just decided she was coming out and that whole thing about first babies taking longer was just not going to fucking apply to her. They barely got Ginny in the bed before Aurelia was barreling her way through the birth canal. Little monster.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked, throwing open the bathroom door. His eyes were blazing.

"What does it look like I'm doing, genius?" she asked, without looking at him. She kept her voice even. She had always been so careful with him but she was beginning to think that he could go fuck himself. She was tired of babysitting his feelings and trying not to overwhelm him. Big monster.

"It looks like you're lying in the bathtub when we have no milk!" Sherlock answered, coming further into the bathroom.

"Go get your own milk!" she shouted at him.

His eyes opened wide in surprise and then narrowed in calculation and she knew, oh God, the fucking _idiot_. He wanted to fight with her. Or someone. Most likely, her, though. So fine. She wanted to fight, too. She would give him what he wanted.

"I'm _busy_!" he shouted.

"With _what_?" she shouted back, standing up in the bathtub, water sloshing, her fucking stretch marks _itching_ and making her irritable, her breasts swollen with milk and tender and _also_ making her irritable and Sherlock standing there looking as beautiful as always, those ridiculous thick curls and that _mouth_. Jesus. There had to be something wrong with her, how much she wanted him. That made her irritable, too.

"With – with an _experiment_!"

She picked up the first thing she could find, which happened to be a bath toy and threw it as hard as she could at his right ear. She had great aim and a badass throwing arm. She would hit what she aimed at so she aimed at his ear because she hadn't known what she picked up and she didn't actually want to injure him. Much.

"Did you just throw a _rubber duckie at my face_!"

Ginny stepped out of the bath, and walked towards him, spreading her arms wide, bringing out her best East Houston ghetto challenge stance.

"Yeah, I did. What are you gonna do about it?"

He stood there, absolutely _shaking_ with rage and she saw her opportunity. She rushed him, slamming him up against the bathroom door and kissed him. She had expected him to resist but he didn't. He moaned into her mouth; he might as well have doused her with kerosene and lit a match.

Ginny pushed him, both of them stumbling, to the bedroom. She got his trousers off as quickly as she could and then she climbed on top of him. He was already hard and she was already slippery with her own desire and he was anchored deep inside of her before either of them could even get their heads around the situation.

The familiar delicious ache of wanting him was flaring too hot and bright inside of her. She abandoned herself to it, every ounce of blistering heat. She felt like she was going to come _right now_. She let her head drop back but Sherlock pushed her off, so abruptly and roughly that she opened her eyes and glared at him until he moved between her legs and thrust himself inside her.

And _then_. Oh fucking hell. She told him he was an asshole. She told him to fuck her harder. She told him her pussy had been wet for weeks, waiting for him to pull his shit together. She called him an asshole again.

He came, his face so wonderfully open, mouth falling open, brows furrowing. And then he moved off of her and down and down and brought her right to orgasm, just like that, thirty seconds of his tongue and her mouth opened and a wild, terrible noise came out of her; part grunt, part groan, part his name.

Just like that. It was maybe five minutes in total. Then they were lying next to each other, panting. In between her legs there was that pleasant post-orgasmic ache, the one that made her feel like her vulva and vagina were swollen and hot and heavy.

"You're dripping," Sherlock said.

"Huh?" she asked and looked at him.

He perched himself on his side, still wearing his shirt and carefully and hesitantly skimmed his fingers over her right nipple, like he was wiping something away. She looked down and snorted laughter.

"Is it gross?" she asked.

"I wouldn't say gross," he said, squinting. "I'm terrified that it will end up in my mouth."

"How would it end up in your mouth?" she asked, cackling.

"You were on top leaning over me and I could just picture what it would be like if it dripped accidentally into my mouth and I was completely horrified." His eyebrows drew together in the way they did when he was thinking sometimes and he skimmed his fingers over the other nipple, wiping those drips away, too. "Your body has changed so much and it feels like it's not _mine_ anymore."

"Well, it was never _yours_ ," she said, curling up on her side, too.

"Oh, it was mine," he said, smirking, leaning towards her and kissing her. "Now it belongs to Aurelia."

"You're jealous of your own daughter?" she asked, tracing her finger over his lips, feeling desire already lifting up its wicked, fiery head, always ready _just in case_.

"Obviously, not," he said frowning at her in consternation. "I simply miss having both your body and your attention all to myself."

"You're always jealous. I would be flatted except I know it's just vanity on your part."

"Maybe it's just because I love you  _that much_."

"No, I'm pretty sure it's vanity," she said, laughing.

He glared at her and she couldn't help herself - she leaned towards him and licked his lips. He moaned against her tongue and then they were at it again, like they hadn't just satisfied weeks and weeks of denied lust, almost angry in their impatience.

They dressed in pajamas after that, watching each other and smirking, happy and in love again, and went to the sitting room where Aurelia had been sleeping in her bouncer on the floor to find her watching them, her large dark eyes shiny with life. She smiled. It was her first smile.

They turned into cooing idiots at the sight and she smiled wider, excited at their faces, excited that her mouth was doing something interesting that made their faces look so excited, which made her even _more_ excited.

Aurelia reached up and touched Sherlock's lips.

"I'm not the only one that loves that gorgeous mouth," Ginny said against his cheek.

"Stop," he warned. "I will die if I get an erection in front of our six week old daughter."

"Sorry," she said.

"No, you're not," he said.

"No, I'm not," she agreed.

They grinned at each other, absolute idiots the both of them, until Aurelia smacked him in the eye and he flinched and raised his hand to his eye and Ginny snorted in laughter.

* * *

 After that, it was like Aurelia had suddenly managed to organize herself, her neurological development back online. They were finally _finally_ able to recognize a pattern in her sleeping, waking and eating. Eventually they moved her upstairs and even though they were _supposed_ to take turns going up to get her when she cried, it was Sherlock who went, more often than not. When Aurelia fussed over the baby monitor, he woke immediately even if he was in a dead sleep. Ginny usually didn't. As long as she had pumped and there was a bottle of breastmilk, Sherlock was happy to do the middle of the night feedings.

Once she was no longer bulging with a baby, Sherlock had realized how thin Ginny had gotten, worryingly so. She had always managed to be both muscular and lush at the same time, strong and soft. Perfect. Now she seemed pale and stringy.

So he fed her up, too. Visitors brought food – things that could be easily reheated. Sherlock would feed her while she nursed or watched the telly. Feed her by hand because otherwise she would forget. And then when she would take a bite, her eyes would widen in surprise and she would say _oh my god I'm starving_ and if she had an armful of baby he would feed her himself and if she didn't, he would pass her the plate and the fork.

"The two of you look like twins. Tall, thin, and neon white," John said, nodding at Ginny who was talking with Gina in the kitchen.

"Well, I'm trying to fatten her up," Sherlock said, indignant.

John was sitting with Rosie and held Aurelia in his hands and Sherlock hovered nervously, sure that at any moment John or Rosie would become rabid baby attackers. Or something ridiculous like that. But he didn't know how to turn it off, this anxiety that Aurelia would get _broken_ , like Ginny had been broken, her legs cut open and then sewn back together. It horrified him every time he thought about it. She had nightmares and he would wake up to hear her moaning in her sleep. She told him _I try to call for help but I can't make my voice work_.

Ginny was made of hardy stuff, though. She had survived so much in her life and it hadn't made her bitter. Sherlock had admired her since he had met her but even more so after he had known what she lived through. She didn't dwell on her trauma. _It will pass_ , she had said, smiling gently at him and cupping his cheek while he leaned into the touch. _Everything passes_.

"She looked just like Ginny, doesn't she?" John asked, smiling down at Aurelia who smiled back.

"I wouldn't say  _just like_ Ginny," Sherlock said, frowning. "She has my mouth."

"That's the only thing of yours she has," John said absentmindedly, as Aurelia grasped his finger.

"Don't be absurd," Sherlock scoffed. "She has half of my DNA. I'm pleased for her to have Ginny's looks so long as she has my brilliance."

"Let's hope she doesn't inherit your personality, then," John said, finally looking at Sherlock and smirking.

"I want one," Rosie said, staring down at Aurelia with a hungry look in her eyes that made Sherlock nervous. Rosie was four now. She was still absolutely lovable and could be sweet but she was also opinionated, arrogant, and precocious.

"It's this one here who's inherited your personality," John said, gesturing at Rosie with his chin. Then to Rosie he said, "Sorry, love. Daddy's too old to have any more children."

"Gina will have one," Rosie said with a nod of confidence.

"Sweetheart, Gina's too old as well."

"Well then Ginny will have one for you!" Rosie said, looking at the two of them like they were unbelievably stupid and might have possibly died from their own idiocy if she hadn't come along to set them straight.

Sherlock and John looked at each other in alarm. How did you explain to a four year old the proprietary nature of monogamous relationships?

"Ginny can only have them with Sherlock," John finally said.

Rosie looked at him in disbelief.

"Well then she will have one with Sherlock and give it to _us_!" Rosie crowed triumphantly.

"Sorry, Rosie. You can't have one," Sherlock said, frowning at her. "They're all mine."

"Sharing is caring," Rosie said solemnly and even Sherlock laughed.

"You can't share babies the same way you would a toy, Rosie," John said.

"That's stupid," Rosie said, clearly dejected.

"She's not that much fun anyway," Sherlock said, trying to ease Rosie's disappointment.

Aurelia reached up and grabbed ahold of Rosie's nose and laughed, giving the lie to Sherlock's statement that she wasn't any fun. Rosie kissed her hand and Sherlock willed himself not to ask John when the last time Rosie had washed her hands and had she recently had any illnesses? That was probably something he should start asking _before_ he put his two months old daughter in someone's arms.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I always welcome emails from readers about anything that tickles your fancy, even if it's just randomness!
> 
> archiveofMYown@gmail.com  
> Teddy


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